


I don't wanna run, just overwhelm me

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Humor, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 06, Trapped In A Closet, also this is my very late contribution to ace week i guess, and in canon, bc the doctor is demi in all my fics, everything i write is a fuck you to james goss's characterisation of their relationship, feelings!!!, i did not mean to write this they were just supposed to kiss in a closet, i'm so bad at titles i tried to use song lyrics like a big girl and i fear it's stupid, idk you know I mix it up, lil bit of angst, my attempt at that trope idek, so many feeings, these tags are the result of sleep deprivation we'll say, why are you booing me I'm right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: Looking back, it was hard for the Doctor to say exactly when he’d stopped running.  The grief and resentment he’d been nursing since their first meeting had given way, little by little, to a terrifying thrill in the pit of his stomach.  It was that magnetic pull; the undeniable certainty that he was colliding with his future each time he crossed paths with River Song.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Comments: 47
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

Looking back, it was hard for the Doctor to say exactly when he’d stopped running. The grief and resentment he’d been nursing since their first meeting had given way, little by little, to a terrifying thrill in the pit of his stomach. It was that magnetic pull; the undeniable certainty that he was colliding with his future each time he crossed paths with River Song. 

Adrenaline spiked through his veins at the first syllable from her lips, her warm voice so smugly suggestive he suspected she wasn’t buying his feigned ignorance one bit. She was utterly infuriating. Infuriating, and brilliant and mad and funny and brave and kind, and she knew everything he’d ever been and had seen everything he would become. 

It would be a lot for anyone to wrap their head around, even if she’d only come sauntering into his life with a gun on her hip that he shouldn’t have liked and her riot of wild curls, smiling that all-knowing smile. But after the Library, after watching helplessly as she placed that horrible crown on her head… Of course it had taken some time for him to reach a measure of acceptance that losing her was the only way he could have her at all. It was the only offer the universe had for them. He could refuse it entirely, or embrace it knowing exactly how it would end.

She’d kissed him, once, not long ago. He stumbled away flustered and overwhelmed, feeling as though he’d touched a live wire. That’s how it had been from the start with River. She connected with his life like a lightning strike— whatever else he might feel, it was a shock. 

But all the while, through fighting against his future and through cautiously flirting with surrender, the Doctor was learning. It snuck up on him, the way the excitement of something big and scary and new had softened into warm familiarity. Full of secrets though she was, a collection of the tiny details of her life had been accumulating in his mind: the sort of intimate little pieces that slowly built a picture, no less lovely for its empty spaces. Not an answer to the mystery, but the person. 

He’d learnt her likes and dislikes, her endearing little quirks, and the words to their shared refrains— the ones that meant _yes, I see you, I know you._ It was a peculiarly wonderful feeling, taking part in the little rituals that were just for the two of them; finding that he could finally begin to step into the shoes of his future self.

He realised all at once that River was beautiful. He’d known in theory, of course— the hair, at the very least, was unmissable— but there was so much he hadn’t noticed, not properly. He found himself utterly, unreasonably enamoured with the little bump on the bridge of her nose. There was a hint of gold in her sea-green eyes, and he couldn’t help staring, trying to memorise the pattern. She noticed, of course, but whatever the relative sequence of their meetings, she hadn’t made a move toward him since that first kiss. She just smiled back at him, all her bravado fallen away, not saying anything at all. 

Heat bloomed in the Doctor’s chest and a lump formed in his throat and he _ached_ to touch her. He was petrified. He couldn’t just keep stumbling on into a future with River; finally, he would have to choose. Their grand destiny, all that was to come, hinged upon the fragile moment when it would be his turn to take a leap of faith. After all, he had no doubt she would catch him. She was only patiently waiting for him to gather the courage to jump. 

It was one thing to decide as he paced round the console with only his thoughts and the Old Girl for company: the next time he saw her, he’d simply— what? Blurt out that he was in love with her? She was from his future; surely she already knew that. And how must that feel for her, to realise that for him it was all still new? That the next time she saw him, he might not have worked it out yet? 

He could... kiss her before she so much as uttered a ‘hello, sweetie?’ Whilst that sounded very appealing in his head, he figured the plan had a low chance of reaching implementation before he lost his nerve. Propose, on purpose this time? People probably generally didn’t _lead_ with an offer of marriage. Of course, she was likely already married to him anyway. It was frightening enough admitting that to himself, having refused for so long to acknowledge that he knew, but a growing part of him felt positively giddy beneath the terror. Like the floor had dropped out from under him, but instead of falling, he discovered he could walk on air.

However much conviction he mustered, the Doctor’s best laid plans always evaporated in River’s presence. It was too huge and terrifying a step, no matter how badly he wanted to take it. All he could do was bite his tongue and follow her into their next adventure. Sometimes, he could even convince himself he didn’t see the hint of disappointment in her eyes.

Their planned outing to Arcateen V today had been derailed when they hit mechanical trouble and dropped out of the vortex somewhere in the Andromeda galaxy. They’d been working in the lower level of the console room ever since, bickering amiably over the repairs. River was always right, of course. At some point that had stopped irritating him, but he couldn’t just let on that he’d realised admiring her came far more easily.

It was warm below the console, with the vents opened to the humming heart of the ship. The Doctor had shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, and River had stripped down to her vest and jodhpurs and tied up her hair. A few downy curls drifted loose around her face, the rest tumbling in ringlets over her head as she bent over an access panel. The Doctor thought she’d never been quite so breathtaking, sat there cross-legged on the floor, murmuring idle questions to the TARDIS as she explored the charred backing of a circuit board. He couldn’t imagine a more apt picture of domesticity, with the lives they led. It was a picture that could only look right with River in it.

There was a smudge of grease along her jaw, curving under her chin, and he wondered if she’d mind if he— no, obviously not. She’d made that plain enough. He would just have to stop being completely paralysed first. 

“Something I can do for you, sweetie?” She didn’t even glance up as he nearly jumped out of his skin. Of course she noticed him staring; probably also knew the entire torturous crisis going through his mind as all the blood in his body rushed into his burning face.

“Er, um, no,” he stammered, “you seem to, to… have things well in hand, there.”

“What can I say? I’m a natural. And, not that I don’t enjoy having you sat there looking pretty, but would you be a dear and fetch me an EM spanner?”

The Doctor swallowed, his throat dry. He could just say it, right now. Words too small and ordinary; inadequate for what he wished to give her, but he had never used them lightly, and they were hers. This was meant to be the good part, the part that was worth all the pain of loss and the loneliness of living out of sync, and he was squandering those precious days for them both. He needed to tell her he was ready, and he didn’t want to waste another minute.

“Okay,” he croaked, clambering to his feet. He turned away, screwing his eyes shut and dragging his hand down his face as the wave of self-loathing washed over him. “I think I may have something in the tool cupboard.”

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ his brain chimed along with each step as he trudged up the stairs to the console. Of all the times, why _now_ could he not just open his big stupid mouth? What was he waiting for, a written invitation? He’d had several of those, scattered over the universe: eternal monuments to her love and his idiocy. He groaned as he turned down the corridor, the heel of his palm thudding dully against his forehead. He could barely recall how this sort of thing was meant to go, but this was definitely not it. 

Now, where had that cupboard gone? He’d been walking past it for months, thinking he ought to move it out of the guest rooms corridor, but now he was actually looking for it— Must’ve finally put it somewhere that made sense. Terrible choice. He ought to know better at his age; he’d never find it now. 

He’d lost track of how long he’d been fruitlessly stalking the corridors when he turned a corner and collided directly with River.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, as the Doctor let out a far less dignified yelp. She steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, laughing hesitantly as he collected himself. For a moment they both fell still and silent as their eyes met, and her lips parted soundlessly, as if she couldn’t quite decide what to say. Slowly, it dawned on the Doctor that his hands had fallen to her hips without notifying him and stayed there.

“I thought you might have gotten lost,” she said at last. 

“I, ah,” he muttered, clearing his rough throat, “seem to have misplaced it.”

“The spanner or the tool box?”

“The cupboard.”

“Of course.”

The tense moment finally broken, they both breathed out a laugh as the Doctor reluctantly released her. The burning rush of regret that followed was becoming all too familiar.

“Let me see,” River said, and for a moment her eyes seemed to glaze over, almost... as if she were seeing something he couldn’t. But that didn’t make any sense. He was imagining things. “This way,” she announced, and took his hand, tugging him briskly along down the corridor.

“What, have you got schematics of my TARDIS?” the Doctor asked, trying valiantly to distract himself from the entirely disproportionate reaction his nervous system was having to her warm hand fitted snugly in his. “I don’t suppose you’d like to share?”

“If I had and I did, you’d only throw them into a supernova.”

“That— that was a very long time ago, and we had a _disagreement!_ ‘Update the operating system’— as if I haven’t got anything else to do!”

They rounded another corner, and River led him without hesitation to the fourth room on the left. “Here we are,” she said as she reached for the door. It swung open, revealing an interior that was definitely not the tool cupboard. Instead it contained a perfectly innocuous looking washing machine, with a basket of clothes sat on top. “That’s odd,” she muttered. “It should be here.”

“Oh, not another one,” the Doctor groaned.

“Another what? Why do you even have a laundry room? It’s not as if you use it; reversing time is generally more efficient than washing.”

“It’s… been an ongoing problem,” he admitted.

“I— what has?”

“Laundry rooms.”

“Laundry rooms,” she repeated flatly.

“Yeah, they’re a nuisance. Toss one in the recycling bin, and the next day you’ve got five more! I’ve been meaning to get rid of them properly.”

River was looking at him as if he had finally, fully lost his mind. He probably shouldn’t have liked that so much, but he was coming to be embarrassingly fond of all her faces, and truth be told, he saw this one at least as often as ‘he’s hot when he’s clever.’

 _“Oh,”_ she said at last, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course. No wonder she’s— she’s got a virus! Why didn’t you say something before?”

“A— a what?! How would that happen?!”

“Well, I don’t know, has she had any recent liaisons with a sentient laundromat?”

 _“River!”_ he gasped, scandalised and affronted. “That’s the TARDIS you’re talking about!”

“Would you prefer it if I called her ‘Sexy?’”

The Doctor could only make a weak sound of protest as his ears began to burn. “You know,” he muttered dismally, “it isn’t fair, you knowing everything.”

“No,” River sighed, looking away from him, “it isn’t.”

 _Oh, good work again, Doctor._ This was really not going well.

“So— all right, forget the spanner,” she said, scowling slightly in concentration as she closed her eyes and rubbed at her temple. “There’s no use fixing anything mechanical until we’ve got rid of the systemic infection. And we’d better hurry before the replication really takes off. Have you got your sonic on you?”

“Um, no,” he said, patting at where his pockets would be. “Left it in my jacket.”

“We should probably go back for equipment first, then,” River said absently, even as she stepped into the tiny room and began peering round the back of the washing machine. “It looks perfectly ordinary… what about these clothes? Are they always the same?”

The Doctor stepped up beside her to inspect the contents of the laundry basket, lifting a white sock experimentally. “You know, I think they might be. Sort of… generically spawned clothing? I wonder if the other one’s in here. Nothing more suspicious than an even number of socks.” He leaned closer to root through the basket, shifting the foot he’d had wedged in the doorway, and the door clicked shut behind them.

He was abruptly aware that he was in quite close quarters with River; it was really more like a cupboard than a room, and the only light shone from one dim bulb with a chain switch, dangling above their heads. She seemed to come to the same realisation, suddenly stiffening beside him. She was actually close enough that he could sense the psychic tension rolling off of her. To his dismay, it seemed a far more unpleasant sort than what he was experiencing.

She turned to the door, only briefly glancing up at him before reaching for the handle. It jiggled, but didn’t turn. “All right,” she muttered, “very funny. You’ve had your laugh, now let us out.” The door still didn’t budge.

“Is it—”

“Stuck, yes, it appears to be,” she snapped. She was holding very still, but the psychic distress spilling out of her mind was starting to set him on edge as well.

“Well, hey— I’m sure we’ll sort it no problem,” the Doctor offered placatingly, reaching for the door handle to give it a jiggle himself, just to feel like he was doing something. “Would’ve been useful to have the sonic, but two geniuses can probably work out a stuck door, eh?”

River took a deep breath, and nodded, her rigid shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit.

“Not a fan of tight spaces?” he asked gently.

Finally, she looked up at him properly again, slightly pursing her lips. The sharp look in her eyes softened. “Oh,” she said, with a hint of her usual self-satisfaction, “it’s not generally a problem. It’s just— well.” She shook her head. “You’re right. I can have the hinges off in a minute, if you’re only going to bin the room anyway.”

As she set to examining the hardware on the door, it was the Doctor’s turn to feel a spike of panic. They were alone with, finally, few distractions and very little space between them, and if he was ever going to work up the nerve to _open his stupid mouth and tell her—_

“River,” he suddenly found himself blurting out, “have we done America?”

He could swear she flinched at the question, but she didn’t look up from the door. “Oh, loads of times,” she replied lightly. “Why, did you have somewhere in mind?”

“No, I mean— sixty nine?”

She stopped and looked back at that, considering him for a moment in the dim light, a glint of amusement in her eyes and one side of her lip caught between her teeth. “Much of the universe depends upon that brain of yours, Doctor,” she said at last. “I’d hate to be responsible for breaking it.”

“Nixon, Canton, Apollo Eleven?” he pressed on, refusing to be distracted.

River let out a weary sigh. She turned to face him fully, her shoulders slumping slightly and arms curling around her middle as she finally admitted, “Yes.”

Well, that was a bit of luck. Maybe they weren’t always as out of sync as he’d feared. “Then— then you know,” he plunged on, hearts hammering wildly against his ribs. “We both know that we… we—”

“Sweetie,” she interrupted before he could resort to pantomime, “you don’t really have to worry about that. I’m the one who has to be careful with you. And I won’t make that mistake again.”

“What— you mean then? Stormcage, after America?” She looked down, saying nothing. “River, that wasn’t a mistake.” 

“No?” She exhaled a bitter laugh. “I didn’t realise it was too... too early. And now, I didn’t even give you a chance to decide. I don’t want this all to have been… to have started because you just... went along with it.”

“‘Went al—?!’” the Doctor sputtered, gaping at her. “River, I don’t just _go along_ with things. In fact, I think you’ll find I have a very extensive history of not doing as I’m told! I wouldn’t…” He trailed off, swallowing and clenching his fists at his sides, burning with the desire to lift her beautiful face in his hands and make her see that he _wanted_ this more than anything. But she deserved an explanation, hopeless though he seemed to be at finding the words. “I… I don’t _do_ this, River,” he attempted again, his voice low and strained. “I mean, as a rule. Not for _real._ Not for centuries. Do you understand? Do you really think I could just...”

“No,” she said, taking a shaky breath and still refusing to look up at him. “No, I know, I know, but you haven’t— not anything since I just... sprung it on you, so maybe you’re not—”

Her voice faded into a breathy whimper, and the Doctor realised it was because he was kissing her. Oh, _good._ With the relief of making that insurmountable leap, he could finally focus on the important bits: her lips sliding slowly against his, his hands cradling her face, the way her whole body swayed into him the moment they touched. The first time he’d been too stunned to process much of the details; now, he wanted to notice everything, to fill all of his senses with River as he learned his part in this, too.

One soft kiss led into another, and another, broken only by their sharp breaths in the quiet room. The Doctor sank into the gentle push and pull of gravity between them. The feeling shuddering through him was too enormous to result from such a simple thing as touch. Clearly with River, it wasn’t simple at all. He stroked his trembling hands over her face, her jaw, the curve of her neck where it met her shoulder. He could scarcely contain the tenderness he felt for this magnificent, blazing star of a person, now so tranquil in his arms. Desperate confessions bubbled up in his mind, but even if he could find the courage, he couldn’t possibly speak at a time like this. So for each true thing he didn’t say, he shifted his grip around her waist, tipped his head to kiss her a little deeper, and thrilled at her soft hum of pleasure in reply.

When River finally pulled back for air, he carried on pressing kisses to her cheek and her jaw, avoiding the smear of grease. She let out a breathless burst of giggles, and another mad swell of affection buzzed through the Doctor’s chest. He bent his head to move his lips to her throat, momentarily surprised by his own boldness, and was rewarded when her laughter melted into a deep sigh.

“Sweetie,” she breathed, “what exactly did you have in mind, here?”

In mind?? Evidently not very much, as he seemed to have lost the capacity to process language. “Mmm,” he managed to answer, pulling her tighter against him and nuzzling his face into her shoulder. He was only just discovering all of this, and already it was so much _more_ than he’d remembered or imagined _._ He could think of little else but keeping her close. Every cell in his body seemed to be shouting that it was how they belonged.

“Because, obviously, it’s not that I don’t _want_ — _oh.”_ She trailed into a moan as his mouth found a spot along her collarbone that he definitely needed to remember for the future, if it could make her sound like _that._ Her voice shot straight down his spine, and he suddenly remembered: _I’m quite the screamer._ That was sounding less terrifying and more promising by the moment.

“This— this is important,” River objected, though she still had her head tipped back and her fingers tightly wound in his hair. “We can do better for you than a utility cupboard, sweetie. And besides… there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. But you will very soon.”

“Does it matter? Does it change this?” He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to brush a kiss over her fingers.

“It sort of changes everything,” she said softly. “But… not this, really, I suppose. Not the important part.”

“Well, that’s all right, then,” the Doctor said, and kissed her again. He could definitely get used to being able to do that. When he looked at her and thought he’d burst from the ferocity of feeling gripping him, he wouldn’t have to just choke it down and turn away. It was a wonder his future self ever got anything done.

“How about—” she began, between sighing into the giddy kisses he just couldn’t seem to stop, “—we start— by getting out of here.”

She was right about this too, of course. If he was honest with himself— always a mortifying proposition— he had thought about it quite a lot recently. In his mind they’d always been spread out on a comfortable bed, where they wouldn’t have to be in any hurry or have any particular concerns about balance, and he’d never had the dials of a washing machine with dubious intentions digging into his lower back. 

Seeing River now, her cheeks flushed and eyes soft, looking lovelier than anyone had a right to under a single naked fluorescent bulb as she smiled up at him and stroked her hand over his cheek, he realised that what he’d missed in these scenarios was that he was almost certainly going to cry. Really, this wasn’t the place.

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed, “good plan.” She was kind enough not to mention the waver in his voice.

True to her word, it was about a minute later when the door collapsed out into the corridor with a heavy _thunk_. River smiled and offered him her hand as she stepped out onto it, and he fell in beside her, lacing his fingers through hers and failing completely to subdue the wide grin that had fixed itself on his face.

“So, the laundry virus,” he began as they strolled back to the console room.

“Yes, if we can identify them all from the console, I should be able to clear them out, isolate the infected program and remove the code. It must be attached to something that’s running frequently; probably part of the regular environmental systems.”

“It’s a shame,” he said, because she clearly had no need of his haphazard guesses at TARDIS repair strategies, “I was really beginning to like that last one.”

She hummed appreciatively, leaning into his side. “There is, to be fair, a nonzero chance that once they’ve finished replication and entered the next stage they will try to eat any occupants.”

“Ah. Well, then. I’m sure a less carnivorous room will do.”

“I have it on good authority that no one has been eaten in the bedroom. Well… _by_ the bedroom,” she amended.

The Doctor choked on air, which was more than worth it for the sound of River’s bright laughter echoing through the TARDIS corridors. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you hungry?” he asked, which was sort of an answer.
> 
> She grinned through her feigned surprise. “Are you asking me to dinner, Doctor?” 
> 
> “Are you accepting?” He could do this, the flirting thing. They were good at this. Well, she was good at it. But he usually kept up.
> 
> “Always.” 
> 
> “Oh, good. That’s good. …That’s what people do, isn’t it? Dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluffy smutty second chapter no one asked for, least of all me- THEY WERE JUST SUPPOSED TO KISS IN A CLOSET, but it demanded to be written so here we are!

“I think that should do it,” River said, dusting off her hands as she dropped the last access panel shut. “But we should probably take her out for a spin just to be sure. Any requests?”

An annoying little voice in the Doctor’s head told him he ought to offer some sort of token protest as he followed her back up to the console and she began flicking switches and firing up the systems of his ship. He wasn’t listening to that voice today. There was a much louder one now, which was pointing out that if the TARDIS was Sexy, that left him few sufficient adjectives to describe River expertly repairing and piloting her. Even the gun and handcuffs and the fascinating suspicion that at some point she had killed him had not quite prepared him. Well, if he was being honest. The Cleopatra dress had been close.

River glanced up when he failed to respond, and from the instant amusement in her eyes, it was obvious she could tell exactly what he was thinking. Mercifully, she pursed her lips and looked back to the console without a word, sparing his last remnants of dignity. He suspected that was a bit of special treatment, given the momentous day it had been.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, which was sort of an answer.

She grinned through her feigned surprise. “Are you asking me to dinner, Doctor?” 

“Are you accepting?” He could do this, the flirting thing. They were good at this. Well, she was good at it. But he usually kept up.

“Always.” 

“Oh, good. That’s good. …That’s what people do, isn’t it? Dinner?” So, not exactly as smooth as he’d hoped. He was out of his depth, but he so desperately wanted to get this right.

“You mean as a follow up to snogging in a cupboard? It’s certainly among the options. But you know, sweetie, we don’t have to do ‘what people do,’” River added gently. “We can do whatever we like.” 

He appreciated that more than he could possibly say. Still, at the moment… “Well, I— I’d like to take you to dinner.”

She beamed at him over the console. “I’d like that, too.”

She suggested one of their favourite places (a casual little bistro, so there was “absolutely no need for him to contemplate white tie,” she had specified without prompting.) It seemed they could get away with some little spoilers like that now and then. Or maybe, it was the only way they learned these things to begin with. The chicken or the egg: her first time or his? There were some aspects of their relationship being a self-contained loop that the Doctor was beginning to think he rather liked, the restaurant recommendations being the very least of them. Everything that was new was also, somehow, the way it had always been. Almost familiar. The universe was as it should be when they were together.

__

Tucked away at a corner table amidst the clatter of cutlery and the low hum of conversation, the Doctor studied the wine list— or, at least, he looked at it. He seemed to have finally encountered a vocabulary he couldn’t completely decipher. River reached across the table and relieved him of the menu.

“Sweetie, if you really want to spit out good wine, we’ll go to a tasting.”

He was more than happy to be rid of that particular puzzle and turn his attention to the dinner selection. “So, what do I usually order here, then?”

“Oh, Doctor. If you always take my word for it, you’ll miss out on all the fun of discovering what you like for yourself.” She had that sparkle in her eye again, and a mischievous smile that she hid behind her water glass as she raised it to her lips.

“Well, I don’t know. You could surprise me. Love a good surprise.”

Her low, delighted laughter brought a grin to his face that he’d been having a very hard time suppressing all afternoon. He probably looked mad to the restaurant staff and his cheeks were beginning to get sore, but there seemed to be no stopping it. 

The candlelight picked up the glint of gold in the loose curls falling over her shoulder as she reached across again to point to an item on his menu. “Your favourite.”

“Is it?” he asked, catching her hand in his before she could pull it back.

He wanted to see her smile every day the way she did as their entwined hands setted onto the table. “Why don’t you try it and see?”

It was good, just talking with River. Really good. In their meetings up till now, they’d fallen straight into trouble more often than not. It wasn’t that the Doctor didn’t love having her at his back in a tight spot, because he really, really did, and he especially loved how _she_ loved getting into trouble. But it was strangely thrilling to think that the future was going to contain more of this sort of thing. The perfectly ordinary, no potentially world-ending distractions, spending time together just for the sake of it, thing. He couldn’t actually think of a more exciting prospect. It was an adventure he hadn’t imagined his future could hold, or even that he’d want it to. River made him want new things from life. Things they could build together.

He hoped she was enjoying their perfectly ordinary dinner as much as he was. She was, after all, no ordinary person. There may have been gaps in his basic knowledge of her history, but he _knew_ her, and that much was obvious. He couldn’t just sweep her off to the stars and impress her with the universe; she and the universe were well acquainted. But maybe he’d started too small? She’d suggested the location, but was it possible she found all this dull? He certainly would have, if not for it being River. It seemed that was becoming a common refrain in his life. He probably shouldn’t have liked that so much.

Still, he couldn’t seem to shake the thought, and it was beginning to put a damper on an otherwise wonderful night. He finally managed to ask her as they walked hand in hand through the carpark back to the TARDIS, beneath the light of three violet-tinged moons. 

“So, this, this was good, wasn’t it?” he ventured, but found he was losing confidence with every word. “I mean… was it? For a first date?”

River squeezed his hand. “I’ve had a lovely time, sweetie. Though technically, it’s only your first date. Mine was… well, it was a very long time ago.”

“What was yours like?”

“In a word?” She paused thoughtfully. “Eventful.”

“Well,” he managed to say without his voice cracking too much, “we’ve still got time.”

She laughed that easy, throaty laugh that made his stomach flutter madly. “I suppose this has been rather a tame evening, hasn’t it? You always were very traditional about these things— not that they’re even your traditions. You’re just a romantic like that.” Given the immensely fond way she was looking at him, he decided to take it as a compliment. “I’ll tell you a secret, Doctor: I think the boring, traditional days are my favourite ones. Maybe not as much when I was young, but… after a little while, you get to see how precious they are.”

Well, he could definitely work with that. “Then, would it be traditional—” he released her hand and bounded ahead as they reached the TARDIS, opening the door with a snap of his fingers, “—to invite you back for a drink?” He paused in the doorframe, grinning as he spun round to face her. She was strikingly beautiful with the warm light of the console room washing over her, in sharp contrast to the cool shadows of the moonlit night. “…I’m sure I’ve got something other than tea,” he muttered, though his train of thought had derailed at kitchen inventory and was currently crashing into the previously unfathomed depths of the embarrassing poetry region of his brain. “I may have to do a bit of digging in the cupboards…”

River smiled as she stepped up and adjusted his bow tie, leaving her palm resting on his chest. “Sweetie, I know it’s a lot. I won’t mind if you take some time to process. You can always drop me off, give me a kiss goodnight, wait a few days to ring me so you don’t seem too keen… I believe that’s traditional as well?”

“A bit late for all that,” he grumbled, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Oh? Isn’t this only your first date?” She said it playfully, but the hesitance and hope were both so clear on her lovely face.

The difference was, of course, that people often didn’t already know the person they were on a first date with, and they definitely didn’t already know when that person was the love of their lives. The Doctor was working up the nerve to tell her so, when he had the very unwelcome thought that most people hadn’t already mourned them, either. 

He swallowed hard, and only managed to hoarsely assure her, “Much too late.” 

He dipped his head to kiss her, and she met him halfway. It wasn’t what he wanted to say to her, but he hoped she could somehow feel the fireworks going off in his brain as her lips parted under his. He sort of thought maybe she could. When her eyes fluttered open again she was smiling, but the concern hadn’t faded. She'd been so careful with him all this time, always worrying that it might be too much; that he wasn’t where she was, yet. Or from her perspective, _anymore._ If he had anything to say about it, that stopped tonight.

“Now, as for ‘playing it cool,’” he murmured conspiratorially, tapping her nose, “not a chance. Really, it’s a lost cause— the bow tie aside, of course.” That got the derisive laugh he’d hoped for, so he carried on, grinning at her. “You know me: embarrassingly eager. It _has_ been said I come on too strong. Well, okay, maybe not exactly in this context, but— if it would help, I’d be very happy to make a complete fool of myself. So just remember, if I do, it was on purpose.”

She swatted his shoulder as she laughed. “How very considerate of you, sweetie.”

“Ah, anything for you, dear,” he said, and was oddly overcome by how much he meant it.

For half a second, River looked like she might cry. But before he could even begin to speculate what he’d done wrong, she blinked away the shine from her eyes and said, “Okay. Let’s have a drink.”

__

“You know,” the Doctor said as they made their way to the kitchen, “I think Amy may have hidden some champagne in here back when the starliner trip went, um, like a lead balloon. They made off with all the goodies from the honeymoon suite after the emergency landing. I’m sure she won’t mind sharing…” 

River snorted. “You’re sure about that, are you?”

“Well. Better to ask for forgiveness?”

“Mm, you _must_ be feeling confident tonight.”

“You like me when I’m confident.”

She grinned, her voice dipping lower as she purred, “Oh sweetie, you’ve _no_ idea how much.”

The Doctor noticed that they’d reached the kitchen, but neither had opened the door. His cheeks burned, and it felt like the space between them was charged with static, about to spark like mad if either one of them moved an inch. The smile was fading from River’s face, and her eyes had lowered to his mouth, but she didn’t move toward him. Finally, he mustered the strength to glance away and open the door, before he forgot all about having a drink. The corridor wouldn’t be much of an upgrade from the laundry cupboard. 

He stopped short and gaped into the room, which was extremely not the kitchen. 

“Right,” he said after a moment, “I can see how this looks, but I swear, this was not here before dinner.” It was, of course, his bedroom. Which he’d certainly been _thinking_ about since she’d brought it up earlier, but was not actually where he’d been going.

“At least it isn’t a laundry room?” River remarked delicately. “It would seem the Old Girl is feeling back to herself if she’s getting up to mischief. I’ve had a talk with her about appropriate boundaries, but I think the concept’s a bit lost on her, honestly.” He couldn’t quite decide if she was joking. “If you’d like,” she offered gently, “I’m sure I can track down the kitchen.”

“Well… we could always find it… later. If you want.”

“We could,” she carefully replied, her voice neutral and her face betraying nothing.

“River—”

“There’s no rush, sweetie. It’s up to you. No matter what, I won’t be disappointed.”

He thought of the precious few filled pages of his diary, still crisp and new, and doubted he deserved such faith and compassion. He hadn’t treated her with nearly the same grace, and she still had many of those days ahead of her. But he could waste both of their time wallowing in his self-loathing now, or he could tuck that into his pocket for later, and give her something good to remember when he was being a miserable idiot to her. Well, hopefully. Not to add a completely unreasonable amount of pressure to the situation or anything.

“You’re sure?” he asked, and it was clear from her sympathetic smile that she thought he was having cold feet.

“Of course, honey.”

“Oh, good. That’s good.” 

He scooped her abruptly into a hug, earning a yelp of surprise from River as he leaned back and lifted her off her feet, followed by a burst of laughter as they spun into the room. He managed to kick the door shut behind them and stagger over to the bed before collapsing onto his back on the mattress. River didn’t entirely knock the wind out of him as they landed, and she was still laughing as she called him a “ridiculous idiot,” so he counted the venture as a success. Then she planted her knees on either side of his waist, took his face in her hands, and kissed him with such enthusiasm he realised she must’ve been holding back all day.

“Doctor,” she sighed against his lips, and that, he decided, was the only way he ever wanted to hear his name from now on. “Just— promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Promise,” he hoarsely agreed.

Apparently satisfied, she turned her attention back to kissing him, which was fortunate, because he wasn’t sure he could resist her a moment longer. He had known, of course, that kissing was generally meant to be an enjoyable pastime. But in his last… _many_ centuries, most of them had been a complete surprise, and often not a particularly welcome one. He’d rather felt like he’d been missing what all the fuss was about. But with River, it was so very much worth the fuss. He could identify the chemicals his brain was feverishly pumping into his bloodstream, translating the softness of her lips and the curl of her tongue and the warm weight of her body into a dizzying flood of euphoria. Somehow, that didn’t detract at all from how terribly sentimental he was feeling. It was like this only because it was River. 

Gradually, they made their way properly onto the bed. The Doctor had expected to be more nervous about it, really; especially such a brain-paralysingly forward thing as undressing her, but it all proceeded very intuitively from the gripping desire to be closer to her and River’s encouraging responses. Her hands shook a little, too, as she unbuttoned his shirt, and that made him ache in a way he couldn’t possibly explain, but he didn’t think he could carry on breathing if he didn’t kiss her right then. The buttons waited. 

Each piece of clothing removed meant more of her warm skin pressed against his, and that was so stunningly wonderful he seemed to have no space left in his head for anything else, let alone for feeling anxious about it. Before he knew it he found himself propped on the pillows against the headboard, with a lap full of River and absolutely nothing in between them. She’d pulled the covers up round their shoulders, which he suspected was to make him comfortable. It did, actually; it felt like being hidden away in their own tiny bubble universe, safe for the moment from time’s clawing fingers pulling them apart. 

River seemed determined to go slowly now; her deep, lingering kisses warming him down to the tips of his toes. But if she meant to take her time for his benefit, the way she was going about it was backfiring a bit. It was all he could do to keep his hips down on the bed as he squirmed beneath her. His shaking hands moved over her back, finding the places where a little pressure from his fingertips made her moan in contentment. Every tiny sound shot through him like a burning jolt of electricity. He wondered if she knew how she was tormenting him. It seemed likely. He wondered if he could die of wanting her. That was probably a bit dramatic of him. But only a bit.

Driven to bravery, the Doctor found himself at an impasse with the geometry of the situation. There was really no way he was going to be able to successfully bend his wrist enough... He finally decided on slipping both hands beneath her, much to her surprise judging by her squeak of laughter, and urging her up. River obliged, breaking their kiss to rise up on her knees. Only, now that he wasn’t lifting her, he was just _touching_ her. And, not that it wasn’t nice, but he hadn’t exactly meant to just grab her, her— 

She sighed eagerly above him, and his nerves settled again. She was happy, so that was all right. Her arms were looped over his shoulders, her head resting against his, and she combed her fingers soothingly through his hair as he got his bearings with this new configuration. Now the most… _immediate_ pressure was off, he could clear his head a little, though the physical loss of her pressed up against him was still completely maddening.

“Sweetie,” she murmured, “you know, you don’t have to—”

“Hush,” he scoffed, “I’m just… orientating.”

“Well, you’d hardly be the first man to need a map drawn up…” Her teasing dissolved into a moan as he slipped his hand between her thighs, tentatively stroking her with his fingertips.

“How’s that?” he asked softly. He was sure he had the basic approach right. Just not quite sure enough to be smug about it.

“Oh,” she sighed, “so you do know where you’re going.”

“Now if you’d only say that when I’m flying the TARDIS,” he grumbled through a smile.

“I only say it when it’s true,” came her trembling retort from above his head, and he couldn’t help feeling a little bit smug about that.

The Doctor lifted his gaze to the smooth expanse of her skin before him, and it seemed only natural that he should explore there, too. His lips fluttered over her ribs, and a palpable shiver ran through her. He stretched up until he met the swell of her breast, and placed a trail of kisses to the valley of her sternum, where he could feel her heartbeat wildly fluttering, almost alarmingly out of rhythm. But before he could contemplate that very much, River gripped his hair and firmly directed him back where she wanted him. His fond smile was pressed into her soft skin, and she moaned as he followed her lead and drew a nipple between his lips. More of her weight fell onto his shoulders as she rocked urgently against him, and it wasn’t long at all before she was quivering all over, gasping out strings of endearments as her thighs trembled.

She reached down and grabbed onto his hand, nudging his fingertips to the side by what seemed barely a millimetre— but apparently a crucial one, from the shift in the pitch of her cries. The Doctor closed his eyes, concentrating on committing that important detail to muscle memory: his right; her left. If he focussed too much on River shaking with pleasure in his arms, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d survive it.

“Doctor,” she panted, “sweetie, are you sure—”

“Yes,” he interrupted, “River, I am so very, very sure.”

“Oh, thank god.” She exhaled a breathless laugh as they both fumbled for a moment to shift into alignment. Then, before he could complete another thought, she sank down onto him.

 _“All right, sweetie?”_ The Doctor faintly heard her gentle whisper in his ear as if from a long distance, filtering through the shocking haze of pleasure that had enveloped him. He nodded mutely, gasping in a shaky breath. Slowly he realised that he was trembling rather violently, and River was cradling him against her chest, pressing sweet kisses to his forehead, his temple, his cheekbones.

“River,” he managed to rasp, and it sounded like a plea, but he didn’t know for what.

“I know,” she soothed. “I’ve got you, my love.”

He looked up at her: her face flushed and chest heaving, her hair falling wildly around her. Her eyes were full of such deep love and understanding, it was impossible not to see it. The truth was, it always had been. She was so gorgeous he wanted to cry. And, as ever, she was patiently waiting for him. He leaned up to kiss her, cupping her face in his hands and lifting his hips to meet her, and she moaned into his mouth as the wave of bliss burned through him. His entire body was electrified and shuddering from the current, but she was holding him, safe and close and so, so warm and nothing had ever been so breathtakingly good.

Her breaths came in shorter, sharper bursts as they moved together, each one escaping her in a keening whimper that made his stomach flip and his hips jerk against her. Shivers were shooting down his spine, but he concentrated on keeping the slow pace she’d set, and that helped to calm the shaking. River was clearly hanging onto coherence by a thread, and that was its own wonderful torment as he fought to stay in control whilst she slowly let go of it. 

Her cries built until they broke into a scream, and she threw her head back, rocking wildly against him. The Doctor set his jaw and closed his eyes, clutching her tight to his chest. Each wave of pleasure flooding through her crashed over him too as her muscles fluttered and squeezed around him, and deeply entwined as they were, there was no blocking out the burst of ecstatic energy radiating from her mind. Stars sparked before his tightly-shut eyes, but he wasn’t nearly ready to let it be over yet.

At last River wilted into him, exhaling a slow groan of satisfaction that made gooseflesh bloom over his shoulders and prickle down his arms. Whilst she seemed temporarily immobilised, he held her and caught his breath, kissing her face as he calculated his chances of successfully manoeuvring them both without causing an awkward mishap. About forty-seven percent. Oh, well. He gripped her close and rolled them over.

They landed diagonally across the bed, his legs tangled in the covers, but the result could have been far worse. It was certainly worth the risk for River’s warm laughter as she sprawled out in the sheets and stretched her arms indulgently above her head. She looked relaxed and radiant and _he_ did that. Lifted the weight of the world from her shoulders for a moment and made her feel, hopefully, as dazzlingly wonderful as he felt. A swell of pride filled his chest, together with the humbled awe that she wanted to share this with him. Immediately following that, he wondered if he could do it again.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against her ear.

She hummed contentedly and locked her ankles together behind him, and the Doctor collapsed onto her with a choked groan. “More than okay, my love.” 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he turned his face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in as he attempted to gather his wits. He wanted to catalogue the sensory elements that he found so strangely and completely intoxicating every time she was near. Her perfume, parma violets, he’d first identified long ago— before he’d ever have admitted to noticing. There was a faint trace of something almost sweet when he buried his nose in her hair; maybe coconut or chocolate? Further investigation needed. But the scent of her skin, particularly here where her pulse thrummed under his lips, was his newest and subtlest discovery. It was warm and comforting, and it travelled directly to some overriding mechanism in his brain that made him absolutely desperate to touch her.

Happily, he was already doing quite a lot of that, but there could always be improvements. He took her hands in his as he reached up to brace himself above her, lacing his fingers through hers. She squeezed them in return as she squeezed her thighs around his hips, momentarily taking his breath away, and that was encouragement enough.

The Doctor kissed her as they started to move, but it seemed there was a lot more movement, this way, and it was difficult to maintain for long. His lips broke apart from hers, and River urged him on, tilting her hips to meet each thrust as her satisfied sighs slowly shifted into deep moans again. Her curls tumbled over the sheets, framing her flushed face. Her green eyes stared up into his, dazed with pleasure; the rings of gold eclipsed now by wide-blown pupils. Her lips parted and her eyelids fluttered but she didn’t look away, and he couldn’t have torn his eyes from her beautiful face if he tried. His nerves were alight, and River was all that existed: her broken moans and sighing breaths; the smooth slide of her skin on his as they moved; the impossibly blissful silky-wet heat of her body holding him tight; her strong, gentle hands gripping his, which somehow felt every bit as intimate as the rest of it. Each little detail another monumental, terrifying, messy, very _human_ act of trust that he had quite intentionally gone lifetimes without. Well, River hadn’t been there then. 

She was shuddering now, her breathing sharp and her muscles tensing more with every stroke, and this time the Doctor was helpless to resist being swept along with her. He kissed her clumsily between laboured breaths, whatever inch of her soft skin was within reach. She was perfect. So perfect. Everything he could ever have wanted, if he’d known he could or would want such a thing in his lives. Well, no. That suggested he possessed the imagination or self-awareness to have dreamt her up on his own, and obviously that wasn’t true. She was the most beautifully unexpected creation of the universe, and somehow, he was just lucky enough to find himself here with her, marvelling at how perfectly they fit. 

He realised that he’d been babbling in her ear, and so far as sounding absolutely wrecked was a positive response in this situation, she seemed to appreciate that. Well, then, good job he didn’t know how to shut up.

“Oh, honey,” River sobbed, and he could feel the first twinges rippling through her as she dug her heels into his back. Tears stung his eyes, and with gravity against him, he couldn’t blink them back before his vision blurred. A thought surfaced about how profoundly unworthy he was, but he drowned it out by kissing her. This was so _good,_ what they had. He had no doubt she’d walked into it open-eyed as he was now. They’d chosen each other, whatever the cost, and there was nothing for him to do now but love her every single moment they had together. And, he already knew in his hearts, long after that. 

He leaned in close again, his lips to her ear. He was so utterly, wonderfully shattered, he could think of nothing else to tell her but the simple, obvious truth. 

River’s tearful gasp rose into a sharp cry, the tension snapping all at once as she writhed under him, and then everything burst into vivid, blinding bliss. It sparked and burned through him, his sight dissolving into stars, the blood roaring in his ears; the rush so overpowering he could do nothing but fall into her arms and hold on tight. 

When the searing pleasure finally faded into a low hum of warmth, they were both breathless and shaky, their sweat-damp skin sticking together. With considerable effort, the Doctor mustered the energy to roll to the side, pulling River along with him. It was easier to see her this way; to admire the pink glow in her cheeks and the light catching on her wet lashes. Like him, she seemed torn between smiling and tears, and had settled on both for the moment. She stroked his hair and held his face as leant in to kiss her, and there was something especially delicious about the soft way their mouths fit together when they were completely spent and basking in the glow of it. His body felt so pleasantly heavy he didn’t know how he’d ever be able to move again, but he couldn’t seem to think of a reason he’d want to, anyway. After all, she was right here. And as there were no words in any language that felt adequate to tell her how wonderful she was, it was good that he had the option to kiss her all over in lieu of trying to explain.

“How are you, sweetie?” River murmured against his cheek.

He couldn’t help the delirious giggle that escaped his lips at the pure absurdity of her being concerned about how he felt, when he felt like _this_. She just cared for him so much more than he deserved. “Brilliant,” he replied, and immediately disliked how little that captured the truth of it. “You?”

“Amazing,” she said, half in a moan.

“Yes, you are.” He kissed the smile from her lips, because it seemed to be the only way his tongue could fully convey his meaning.

This was a very nice bed, actually. Much better than a laundry cupboard. As River curled into his chest, the Doctor wondered why he didn’t spend more time here. Well, no, that was obvious. But that could change. He pressed his nose into the soft curls at her hairline, breathing in deep. He traced circles over her back with his fingertips. It was so perfectly peaceful, he thought it would be quite nice to fall asleep, just like this. It had been… a while. He reached down with one arm, trying to squirm as little as possible as he detangled the covers from his legs and tugged them up over them.

He brushed a soft kiss over her forehead, then another. The quiet stillness was lovely, with her here. Well, it was. To a point.

“River?”

“Hm?” she answered, the vibration of her voice soft against his shoulder.

“Sure you’re all right?”

“Of course, my love.”

“And you’d tell me if you weren’t?”

She hesitated just a moment too long, her shoulders tensing under his hands.

“River?”

“I— it’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetie.”

“Yes, well, you’re too late there, so you might as well tell me.”

She let out a heavy breath. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just… this was a first, for you.”

“Ah,” he said quietly, pressing his lips to her forehead again. “I suppose you’re beginning to see a lot of me when I’m…”

“Still coming round?” she suggested.

“Being an idiot.”

She resettled in his arms, just a little tighter against his chest, and he felt her smile pressed to his skin. “These things take time. You’re still getting to know me.”

“I imagine that’s very difficult for you.”

She was quiet again for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders slightly. “That’s sort of the deal, sweetie. We both knew what we were in for. We’re back to front, moving in opposite directions.”

“It seems to me,” the Doctor said carefully, reaching for her hand, “that there’s quite a lot of mixed-up bits in the middle. Or how would we be here now?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true. For a very long time, we were meeting in the middle more often than not. And sometimes, we still get lucky. But… eventually, the middle runs out.”

“You see, the thing about that is— I’ve got your address.” He leaned back enough to look at her, raising her hand to his lips. “And I don’t see anything stopping me from dropping by, an-y—time—I—like.” He punctuated the words by brushing his fingertip over the bridge of her nose.

“Address? Don’t you mean my cell block number?” River asked archly, but he could see the flicker of hope in her eyes.

“Mm, yes, I have that as well.”

“Oh— _cheeky!”_ she gasped, a delighted smile finally blooming over her face. “I’m meant to be the one with the spoilers when you’re young!”

“Ah, I may have a few surprises for you yet, Dr. Song.”

“Of course you do,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly as she smiled up at him, her eyes glittering in the dim lights. “Sentimental idiot.”

He certainly couldn’t argue with that characterisation at the moment, so he kissed her instead. He really had yet to find a situation with River where kissing was the wrong answer.

When they parted, she snuggled into him again, and this time, the quiet was comfortable between them. With the warmth of her body curled up against him and the covers draped over them, it was so easy for his eyes to begin to drift shut. They could always have a drink later. Tea was a drink. A good one for mornings.

He must have been babbling again, because River murmured into his shoulder, “Yes, sweetie. In the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you comment I will love you forever!


End file.
